Muddle, Hour Nineteen

Muddle

My mind is a puddle mush
galumphing dumping muddle
as my eyes mish-mash
and cross over running cuddles,
streamlet dreams of sleep.

My heart double thumps
in scheming driblet themes
as my ears wish-wash
and skewer through sunny wobbles,
dreamlet streams of the deep.

My soul cuddle pushes
in theming droplet schemes
as my hands slap dash
and scoop under wobbly runnels,
deeplet steeps of sleepless dreams.

One thought on “Muddle, Hour Nineteen

  1. I love this. My youngest often combines words – hanatizer (hand sanitizer), tofood (any dish containing tofu, which she likes), eatmeal (oatmeal, she has to eat eat and doesn’t like), and right from the title and the opening line you had me in the world you were communicating and the way a mind words sometimes. So well conveyed. Love the last stanza.

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